Taking stock.............

When I first heard Tyler Durden reason out, I never thought it applied to me, at least not then. Am not “very, very, pissed off” but the statement reigns true.

“Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.”

Sometimes it gets really scary when you lie on your couch and reflect. You can replace the ''couch'' with a bar stool and the result remains as my friend Timothy keeps reminding us. He once sat on that bar stool; sipping his warm Tusker and realized the scary truth we call life. Where he is and where he thought he should be at around this time in his life don't rhyme. The big house, the big car, the beautiful wife, two kids and a dog aren't there, you ain't a big shot anywhere, you aren't filthy rich. You are as Tyler Durden says, ''the all singing, all dancing crap of the world''.  Same story goes for most of us. When I was 10, after every term paper, the top performers were rewarded with half a block of loaf and a half liter of your favorite soda. One was also required to stand in front of the other kids and prophecy their futures, or rather tell them your dreams. I was a top performer and I did have a dream, two dreams in fact. One which was the accepted societal response and my personal dream. To the society, I would grow up to be a pilot, to fly in our skies and transverse this planet of ours. Aeroplanes fascinated me and as I lay on back on the school pitch watching the skies, I dreamt of being there. Whenever I saw a plane, I would wish to be in it.

My personal dream was to own a dog. I've always loved dogs since ''Simba'', the stray dog I brought home when I was 7 to guard my rabbits. He hung around for a couple of months until he decided he wanted a different scene; he was bored and needed some excitement. I came home one evening only to find Simba had moved on. I guess it's true what they say, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. But I digress.

I think this is where one is supposed to take stock. You watch yourself grow; you laugh at teenage mistakes, the peers that gave you the right and wrong advice neither of which you followed, the women who made you veer from your dreams, the worthy few and the unworthy most who made the best of your memories. At this point, if you're sitting on that bar stool you order another Tusker and for those on the couch pour more vodka in your coffee. Light a cigarette.

''It was the need to fit in”, you justify the mistakes. “No one wants to hang out with a bore. Am a creation of this blood sucking society which is going mad. It walked me this way.''

You smile at how ridiculous you sound, take a drag off your gaff, and smile some more. The reason I smile is probably because I knew the shit am getting myself into by following the crowd because contrary to popular belief, I wasn't dumb. I did a few dumb things, or maybe a lot, can't be really sure but I knew the consequences of my actions. I used to call them calculated mistakes coz before making them, I weighed them against the consequence. I was a tad bit religious, so every once in a while, blaming or rather invoking the name of the devil for my ill-meant deeds and god for not ''not leading me into temptations'' was a card I played. I kept it close in case I needed to use it, but due to its strength in poker, I rarely used it to avoid it’s abuse. I cannot however, with a straight face say I did not know the consequences of my actions and for peer pressure, that was all me. The sneaking out of school, the blowing of school fees on booze and women, the school strikes involvement, the tiny little mistakes that compounded to one big mistake that got me kicked out of school, that was all me. I knew by not applying for University, I won't be selected even if I made the cut (which I did)  but I still didn't apply justifying my stupidity with my distrust for our education system which taught flawed history and missing pieces in our arithmetic.........

 

You take a drag and smile. If you're on your couch, you make more coffee (half coffee, half vodka), if at the bar-stool, a double shot of vodka and a warm Tusker and reflect on how things turned out...... You come home from work, make your coffee, light a joint, pour yourself some vodka, kick off your shoes, put on some music and dream. Alone in the house, you dream of the home you'll never own, the car you'll never drive, the wife you'll never marry.....you dream. Dreams are free, dream away boys and girls, and watch them never coming true. Remind yourself how hopeless humanity has become, vile, needy, broken dreams, a constant reminder of what I've become. A slave to that which I loathe the most.

This is the hard part now, do I regret the mistakes or do I cherish the memories? I've been crazy in this lifetime. I've made some major mistakes. I like the widely accepted, ''if I had to do it all again, I wouldn't change a thing'' theory. It's comforting. When am alone with my thoughts, I try to be honest with myself. In the middle of insomnia and good music, these thoughts do cross my mind. Decisions that shape my life, the self-preservation that shows when we pull down the plasticity the world forces us to wear day in day out, the pretense of a fulfilled dream. The generally accepted way of life that fuels the guzzlers of the elite, the modernized caste system eating into my bones, my muscles clench, my heart burns, my soul dies. Every Monday morning I drag my ass out of bed and convince myself am doing this for me, for mine, but deep inside I know am doing it for them. The soulless bastards that took away my right to live my dream. I'll take back my 'am not “very, very, pissed off”' for now because Mondays bring out that side of me.

 

On the flip side, I’ve made memories which I wouldn’t trade for anything, made friends who’d stand by me regardless of all my flaws and my flawed interpretation of love, lust and indifference. I’ve lived a full life on the first half of my life (the mortality rate isn’t what it used to be) and although what I dreamt I would become and what I am don’t rhyme, the mistakes have been beautiful so far, almost as beautiful as the women who are part of them.

Ps: Taking stock on a bar-stool has the advantage of finding a hot woman taking stock too, and y'all know how that goes.

My mirror gets me....

''I shouldn't have met you. I met you, I liked the smiles a little too much and now I can't get you out of my head. You're intoxicating, and am drunk, am high with your hi.....''

Scratch that......

''Am dumb, and I know....''

Scratch that.... This is going to be harder than I expected. Maybe I should buy chocolates and let them talk on my behalf, I heard chocolates and girls are mostly on the level. This thing with words, choosing the right words to explain something I least understand.... Okay here goes nothing.

''The whiplash of living at once what I had been awaiting for years, the sheer disbelief at finding happiness in this world, had reduced the pleasures to a series of luminous moments, discrete and without measure, like so many fireflies, beaming and vanishing in an instant.''

Okay, I got to admit I stole that. Am reading poetry now, what has become of me? Whatever happened to my balls? She's walking in the house and flipping the switches, on and off,off and on, turned down low, changing the color bulbs, circling above us like smoke, like a ghost......she's driving me out of my mind.

What do I want from her except for us to do nothing? For her to just be, for us to just be. The old terrible magic coalesce into the air, hold her hand, walk on the beach, fish and sail....that's it, that's definately it, fish and sail and barbeque at the beach is what I want to do. I want to put my hands on her as a trial, just as a test. I want to put a hand on her face or on her arm because I think that if I did that, I would be so happy. I just want to feel her skin and I want to get at the soul underneath that muscle because I could smell it. But I bury these things in my heart.

I stand on the mirror and practice. I choose all the right words, create the perfect scenarios, pre-empt her answers. I recite poetry and practice emotions but I know it will all come crashing down once she flashes that smile. But still, I practice.

Spin, Run and Choose

“This is why we shouldn't be afraid There are two possibilities: One is that there's more to life than the physical life, that our souls "will find an even higher place to dwell" when this life is over. If that's true, there's no reason to fear failure or death. The other possibility is that this life is all there is. And if that's true, then we have to really live it - we have to take it for everything it has and "die enormous" instead of "living dormant," as I said way

back on "Can I Live." Either way, fear is a waste of time.”

― Jay-Z, Decoded

I guess he was right in a way, but on the flip side, how broad are our choices? We are thrown choices where we are not in a position to choose right with certainty and the risks spread to the extremes of our fears. Whatever the consequence of our choice will be, if the opposite turns true, we are most definitely screwed as the punishment falls either on living a completely stale and boring life wasted on patiently waiting on an unknown bliss or an eternity of unprecedented agony albeit in the afterlife. And it gets worse, we live in a community who tend to judge us depending on the choices that we make, a society with absolute truths, a society that does not understand why our truths vary from theirs but they expect us to understand their truth.....PAUSE....

When I was growing up, I knew of a few truths, absolutes if you may which reigned supreme regardless of how wrong they would turn out to be. That was before they opened the gates of Hades, dragged my soul away, and told me I shouldn’t walk this way.Take music for instance, and the difference in association today and a couple of years ago. Rock for instance was considered Satanic, still is in some quarters, hip hop as a messenger for all that's wrong (probably because it's provocative) until we found out it's us who were listening to the music wrong. We were listening to music the same way we read books, or perceive art, the way society deems right. We've been molded to take a particular path and designing ourselves, creating our identity which in my opinion should be our goal on life is hindered. Identity is an absolute truth. It is sometimes conflicted, bigoted, stereotyping but all in all, it's probably the only absolute truth. We may try to run from it, remould it to suit the circumstances that be, but it's core values, it's needs, it's principals remain. With this in mind, re-examining our truths. We think the way society expects us to and crazy ain't too far a dogma if your path is considered against the grain. We don't pause, what if the societal truth is wrong?

.....PRESS PLAY. With truth relative, what are we supposed to run with? My truth is fire excites me. I sometimes, for no apparent reason strike a match and watch the flame glow, grow, steady and slowly die. It tells the story of my life, our lives, but I don't know much about yours, thus this might be or might not be your truth. My truth is I want to spin, and then run.

I want to spin because I want to see the world distorted, listen to the music broken, an alternate world where nothing is as it seems. I want to see God the unconventional way, see power as a different tool, women as beautiful, nature as Gods' creation. I want to experience the peace in belief. I want to trust easy and love slow. I want a better view of the world, delusional or not.

I want to run. I want to run and experience everything good in the world. I try to live right, I try to make choices that add value to my life and although going with the flow gives you a softer landing, the rewards fall on average. Although every man believes that his decisions and resolutions involve the most multifarious factors, in reality they are mere oscillation between flight and longing. The end result of your life here on earth will always be the sum total of the choices you made while you were here.

And then the big question, having a devil on one shoulder and

an angel on the other, how to live my life, where to live my hell, how to walk facing forward with nary a crick in my neck from looking back at the crossroads, and most importantly, how to live without been afraid........

A few explanations

Sometimes when you're high, worlds seem to crash a lot although in a nice way, our ideal worlds depending on the virtue of the moment. Whenever you feel the need to be powerful, you create a world where you dispense power the way you think is right, sometimes its dictatorship, sometimes its democracy, deepening on how you feel about the government of the day.

That's the ideal world of the moment. Sometimes the ideal moment is playing mini rugby with your two sons and a hot wife in a good neighborhood, others include war heroes, great lovers, prince charming, bad boys, great musicians, famous writers, and others that make your ego bloat.

When these worlds collide, it changes the direction of the flow. Whenever your worlds start closing in on each other, you try to evade a crash. Normally, you try to navigate the world that you are in to fit into this other world, a little to the left, a little more to the left to get at least an almost fitting merger. Sometimes the worlds match, sometimes they just don't.

I had to explain the change of flows before I walked into this world with my favorite girl. I might put us in a beach, around 8:03 pm on a starry night and Mary Jane teaching us astrology. She'd explain the Leos that don't act like Leos, and why I am not much of an Aries. My favorite girl would play with waters at her feet and her yellow lasso would be slightly soaked. You see this world although a great one and probably my favorite one isn’t my only world. I have worlds that make a better world, sometimes by starting a children’s home, sometimes an NGO reaching out to talented youth. Sometimes my worlds are affluent, sometimes powerful, playful and so forth.

With all these virtual worlds, simple triggers into these worlds can sometimes cause a collision of flows. I might even completely lose a flow when I try too hard to fit two worlds which don't much. Sometimes the balancing works, sometimes works not, and sometimes the crash create an extremely different thought. A total diversion from the world, a hypothetical.

Normally, this occurs when there is a distraction. Somewhere trying to merge the world of Emo girl in the beach and the war hero, yours truly, someone knocks the door. You try to concentrate on whatever the person on the door is explaining to you, try having a decent conversation with the other person and at the same time hold on to the world you're at, or rather pause (ever talked to someone and then they just giggled and asked what you were saying). When you're done dealing with the distraction, you try going back to the world, you were in, fast forward it in your head, rewind a little, look for triggers, but it's gone.

This is where the hypothetical start, like almost learning hypothetical. If you've done something wrong, or rather un-societal as per yours and you think you are about to get caught and in your head you are thinking of the lesson you are supposed to learn. If you're not caught, it means you almost learnt a lesson.

At this point the hypothetical becomes a line of thought. One may decide to break down this line of thought, the almost learning a lesson. If you are almost caught, it means you haven't made a mistake, at least in my book (one may be compelled to explain a little about the book, maybe explain how many cancellations and additions it has had depending on certain situations, and so forth if your catch my drift). It may go on to what culminates to a mistake, how good it feels to make a mistake and so on. Eventually, this hypothetical breaks down an own creation, more like solving a problem that you have created, although a hypothetical one. The good thing is, if you become famous, a hypothetical solution will be used to treat a real problem.

And now, due to the collision of worlds, am not in a position to go back to the world where my favorite girl is lying at the beach. I am also unaware of the world I've collided with and am out of hypothetical. I would kindly ask you to allow me a couple of minutes to recollect my thoughts and get back to you as soon as possible or as soon as my mind come back from Uranus.

Peace.

PS: The photos in this piece have no relation to the post, although I do like the Emo girl and the laughing monkey. They remind me of my favorite girl and the monkeys in  Freethinkers, humanists and just people wanting 2 know more.

Friends and when they were

I once had a friend, Muriithi, back in primary school. We both joined the boy scouts not for the discipline or to live by the ''be prepared'' motto, but because every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, we were allowed to skip classes and practice the drills. We did practice the drills, the football kind with a paper ball made nicely using the few skills learnt from Mr. Kibandi aka 'Kigo'. Kigo, everybody loved him for his taunts on kids, but if you forgot to do his art and craft homework, he wasn't funny anymore. My sister Euna used to do a splendid imitation of him and our evenings were filled with laughter, we loved the guy a little more than we cared to admit, we still laugh when my sister gives life to his taunts back in primary school years.

Muriithi was my best friend because as kids, we never really needed to pretend to be who we were not. When he was sent home for not clearing his school fees, school was boring. I did have other friends but he was funnier, more cunning, and in a funny way like telekinesis kind of way, he would feel when the afternoons or the preps weren't working for me and more often than not, he would be along the same line of thought. Ndung'u, the scouts leader was in the same class as Murithi, a few sign words and it was on, freedom to play as he would come knocking at our door calling out for scouts practice. I think the best time of any day when I was in primary school was when the scouts master came calling when class was in progress.

After clearing primary school, we went in different directions. The first few school holidays that followed, we would hook up for a football game with the likes of Samuel, William, a few more friends and Muriithi. He was a great footballer too, not like William or Samuel who were the best, or rather football was a part of them, in fact before I started watching the EPL in 1997 with my favorite team being Newcastle then, I had being recruited to support Tusker F.C by Samuel. We tried not to drift too far from each other for a while and although we never sent each other letters or some other girly emotional stuff, we did try to keep each other updated on what was going on in our lives every small chance we had. With High school however, we are meant to make new friends, join crews that best define you and all that but there is always a catch. You'll have to compromise a few of your traits to fit in. It is the rule of nature.

In high school, you meet people who have lived lives totally unrelating to yours but there are a few things that bring you together. It maybe the music that you love, the kind of movies or books that you'd miss an important appointment for, among other things. In this new found friendship, you start discovering that behind the lifestyle this new friend has is a person who is more or less like Muriithi, or a compromised version of Muriithi. At this experimental stage of your life, you start discovering new things, but with your new friend (s), and the friends you were closest with start fading away. You don't look for them during the holidays anymore, there is no more catching up over football matches and with time you move on from one friend to another.

After high school, the scenario repeats itself again and it's the high school friends that are fading. At this point, almost 20 years of age, choosing the right kind of friends is not as natural as a 5 year old nursery school going kid where the only qualification was ''will you play with me?''. People, at least most people have an idea of what they want to do with their life, including you. It becomes a more of what can I gain from being a friend of so and so, or what image do I portray if I walk with so and so, among other pros and cons. In fly’s plasticity and with the life we are living moving at an unmanageable pace, everybody leaves their masks on even when they go to sleep. We rarely find them at their most natural to find out who they are, what is their favorite colors, what they would love to do before they die, their strengths and their weaknesses ........because we are plastic too. No one is as honest as their younger version and trust has become way too fragile and rare for one to throw around.

Without even noticing it we are changing too. Our trust level is slowly diminishing with own and other experiences teach us to keep our guard up all the time. We build a protective front, a stronger cage for the susceptible heart. We don't trust strangers, and it takes much longer to turn strangers to friends, not like when me and Muriithi and I made friends using a paper ball, when we trusted playmates we met a couple minutes ago no to trip me to get ahead of me. Times were easier then.

At these points in our life, we try to look for minor signs of deceit, watch consistent routines, consistent views and other hazards to you. We don't look at the pros when making friends but cons, reasons not to trust, possibilities of disappointments. We used to look for pros at some point when we were younger, now look at us. A plastic world we have become, plasticity so deeply rooted it would take more than a miracle to unmask. I pity us, I really do.

The longer a friendship lasts, the stronger it becomes. I wish I knew where Muriithi is today, what happened after High School? I wish we went to the same high school, went to college in the same town and get a single room somewhere near campus where we would pick up university girls and hang a sock to signal a visitor from Venus is entertaining one of us. Maybe that's asking a little too much but at least a high school friend. After a few parties and concerts, we completely lost touch.

Don't get it twisted I do have friends, long term friends for almost 10 years now. I trust them with my life because even though we didn't grow up together, but by the time we met the plasticity was manageable. Even though there were pretentious, we didn't need much impressing as teenagers. But I do envy childhood friends. I am not talking about the kind that faded at some point, but the kind that still holds water. My cousin Ken is one lucky guy, he managed to hold on to more than five childhood friends, and I mean friends since nursery school (elementary school for the new generation).

When did making friends turn into a job?

Something, Something ..... Somewhere

Coconut doing his thing

Am at Jay Jay's place, it's a couple minutes after noon and if I got this kinda flow, Coconut is in the hohouhouuuse, you know we gon hurt some treeees (you gotta hear this in person to really get the picture, with all indications. Its part of an acting class I attended since I was little, they call it watching television. I don't even know why we send kids to school, let them watch television. I am a great lawyer after watching all episodes of Boston legal and a whole lot of The Practice. I received my doctorate after watching all seasons of ER, doctors, House and a whole lot of hospital drama. Am pretty sure after watching super sport for a couple of years, my foot balling skills have greatly improved. Am still working on my golf stroke but am not too bad with the oval ball, I prefer the scrum half title.) Coconut is one cool dude, one of the coolest dudes I know. He loves the ocean more than anything else in the world, maybe only rivaled by his Mary Jane sessions, maybe it’s a tie but that is the only life he knows. He can’t last a month without seeing the ocean; he says it would make him sick. It’s understandable considering how in my short stay in this place, am actually dreading leaving this place; the ocean is beautiful, even when it’s angry it twinkles. Sunsets and sunrises are beautiful with the ocean as a background, even better if you are sailing towards one.

Dj feddy in the house

Back to the main story, at Jay Jays' place with Jay Jay, Coconut, Feddy, I like this kid, yeah I said it. Feddy is a spoilled lil kid. Just playing with ya'll, he's a pretty awesome dude, coolest Dj I’ve ever being friends with, he's definitely up there (he's the only Dj am friends with hihihihihi, but don't tell him that he doesn't know. That doesn’t mean he’s not good, he’s great on the decks but his crowd kinda lets him down. With the music collection he has and the mad skill, all he needs is a crowd that knows good music and he’s good to go). He's like a chic magnet; he just draws them to him. I tried to study him, his walk, the way he talks to them, if he holds their  hands or plays with their hair, or he rolls his eyes different. But naah, this guy was way too simple, he's got to have something that most men don't have, and all chics, most chics love, or like a lot, whichever word they use. Now, whenever you walk with the guy, you notice that almost all the women know the guys name. being a dj means his name is thrown around in a lot of conversations, topped with his other job at the cyber café cum mobile repair shop, he’s bound to be well known. This however doesn’t explain the giggles, or the throwing back the hair thing that these chics do or the effortless way they talk to him. I guess his availability has something to do with it, I mean you’ll call him at 3:00 in the morning and he will pick up and talk to them, the guy is always on the phone with this or that girl.

 .........(the flow kind a split a little, my home boy Kisanya just called, he's nursing a hangover right now. You see, the dude been around since sometime around September last year, and kinda landed on the wrong side of the ocean, unluckily. The place does try coz they have candle lit drinks unwillingly, KPLC don't like them much, some mmmhh……….., honestly nothing is good on the other side of the island except maybe the bartender doesn’t hurt their pockets as much as he does us on the fun side, not that we are complaining, we are on the fun side. So anyway, last night went different, the spontaneity alone got the guy hi already, significant because at that particular moment when Matata insisted that he must board the boat, the spontaneity alone took him a cool 4 steps ahead of everyone. Let me explain the steps thing, okay, I have to because we keep telling people how many steps ahead of them we are and all but we don’t really know the genesis of this saying, it all started in a pub. The first guy was an hour ahead of everyone, a couple drinks ahead too. When his friends showed up, the whole trying to catch up thing was in play but the guy who came in first could walk for quite a distance compared with his buddies. It’s a really long story, anyway where were we, managing excitement. I think if you are overly excited, the first thing you should learn is to manage the tongue, better yet, glue the lips for a couple of minutes. The need to impress and a loose of tongue –not loose in the wrong kinda way- don't go hand in hand. You might say too much, or say all the wrong things, that wouldn't happen if all you did was smile and nod. It gives you time to absorb the excitement, and then calmly relate to whoever is closest to you. My homeboy needs that, no pun intended. If you’re hanging out with a different kind of crowd, you might pull it off, but it’s hot versus cool situation. Hot is a good image, so is cool, but these crowds although they normally don’t crash, they don’t roll either. The hot bloods party loud and hard, the cool kind like chilled out, laid back parties. Hot bloods are terrible with excitement management, believe me I know, I’ve been hot but once you cross to the cool side, it’s a whole different bliss. My boy is a hot blood surrounded by the cool crowd, although a few more hot bloods were in the house, they were past the excitement level. He had his first sailing experience since he came to Lamu, and the excitement was written all over his face. He had quite a night although he retired a little earlier than most of us, but he definitely had the best night of his life, his words) 

PAUSE: Bulls eye just caught my eye; apparently, Ksh. 3,322,942 is what The Right Honorable Prime Minister of the Republic of Kenya Raila Amollo Odinga remitted to the taxman’s kitty. The Vice president flashed his bill of a cool FOUR million but Najib Balala just can’t afford to pay such staggering amounts. Am not sure he fully understands what he meant by screaming he has to steal to pay taxes. Some other guy just uttered about 12 of some of the most incomprehensive words known to man. This learned fella is giving the big words king PLO Lumumba a run for his money with words like, obnoxious, belligerent and cantankerous ......blah blah blah, but that cantankerous word, I could swear he chose it on the spot...even the flow kinda showed..... nananana, nananana, nanana -he looks up, I guess coz he knew he had to make people Google the word and see what he means. The words before and after this new enormous word he was about to create, were ruggedly said, you couldn't really be sure how the word would be spelt out, blurred if it were visual. On reaching his big word, CANTANKEROUS, he had to be clear to everyone, he had to look up and say it at a slower pace, make sure that everyone in the world is curious about the word. Linguists, these guys amaze me, if they decide to study a language, they turn out to be actual dictionaries, I guess this is because people tend to be a little easier with their mother tongue or Swahili, Sheng rather if one was raised in a township which means sheng ya hiyo mtaa. Now, when studying a foreign language, every new word one hears has to be investigated and tested a few times in sentence to test if it feels right. This dude had learnt this secret the same way I and everyone else did, listening to the sounds and throwing the word around in spaces to see if it feels right in one, something like, let's try the bar 

He passed his bar examination

Am going to the bar

We will bar kids younger than...

''Bar, fits in three spaces, creating three different scenarios, legal situation scenario, extremely awesome scenario, and a sad situation scenario. That means it's a good word, twistable too in tenses too 

I gotta pause again, apparently some movie am watching,(someone changed the channel, I think its MM2, nayway) some dude was going to give his virgin daughter to some other dude coz he scored a winning goal in a competition somewhere in the world, almost as stupid as icing your self for some foreign team. For you to understand how stupidly this guy reacts, ''really?”, with like twinkly eyes, blushy, woman kind of thing and the all universal belief, he's either gay, or the worst kind of an actor, actors created on a Monday morning coz even the big guy loves his wine, how else do you think JC learnt the trick? Definitely not his mother coz a mother that the big guy chooses to plant his seed has to be extremely pure. Caesars' standards are high but these are a one to the world kind, the universe the whole entirety. She wouldn't have an idea of how to turn water into wine, this was the big guys’ doing, like the holy herb, at least he left the herb on earth for us to experience a lil bit of heaven every once in a while, that coupled with fountains of wine, now if that ain't heaven, I don’t know what is. Your view of heaven must be different from mine coz I know , ya’ll know I'll be praising the big guy, he says to Christians, with 72 virgins (just imagine the havoc in that house, 72 women craving for attention) as he whispered to Mohammed, reincarnation at a higher level, as he told most Eastern religions, and New Age spirituality teachings. Anyway, he whispers these things to different people; everyone has some time allocated by the big guy for a one on one. Sometimes if he only has one message for all, he just places it in the notice board for everyone to see, unluckily it's at the bottom of the leaf and most people are not as close to Mary Jane as the chosen few (22.5 million daily therapy attendants, she's good!!). We hear God's voice, all of us do but we don’t always get a clear signal, *bila rasha rasha*. Anyway, some guys thought they were special; they made loads of people believe that they have the clearest signal, special kind of channel for the best and the worst news. We get the supersport 3, MTV, discovery channel, cartoon network, all those other channels but he's the only one with CNN. Since no one else has CNN, nobody else but them knows the going ons of heaven, the CNN programming. They saw how the world will end, but they all get it wrong, recently they have been doing that a lot, the guys in the Bible, the Quran, the ........., and those other books gave it quite a vivid view when they drew the picture.... 

Anyway, the latter created religions, Paul decided Christianity it is, Moses thought Judaism has some swag in it, Muhammad was like, Islam does sound
pure, and so on. But the guys watching that CNN channel lately a really in that high shit, how do they get their calculation wrong all the time. Owuor almost had it with the earthquake coz s'thing shook...nah, nah, that was my cousin Patrick taking a dump, he got it wrong with the earthquake, that Naivasha dude with that Naivasha nuclear story, the so many times these guys have predicted the end of the world, the channel must be flawed........("no, no, no it's coz they have being airing features lately and the memo was an internal thing so earthlings didn't get it", "ooohh someone should alert these guys")..... it’s bad for me especially when it comes to my vices. I had packed, everything was parked, I knew exactly what to park in anticipation to the end of this move. The closer the day came, I had collected water, a lot of water to ensure that wherever they took me I had something for it. If they threw me in hell, the fire goes, the Sergent is in the house and he ain’t burning. With what JC pulled in that wedding, heaven will be beautiful. If Jesus could turn water into wine, and he was only 33 years old, what would his old man who created all the wind from his breath, light and dark with a word, a woman with his hands, yes with his hands on a Sunday afternoon. He created all these beauty with breathes, words and hands, if his son could turn water into wine at such a tender age, what could the big guy accomplish with water? Water I had packed, a lot of water I had packed just for me to wake up in my bed the next day, fully fucking DRESSED!!! (You don't want to be a naked ghost now do you?)I was mad as hell, at first it was God, I kept screaming out for him to come talk to me, he was ignoring me a lot lately. How long has it been? 24 seconds and he doesn’t even try to sshhh me, you know when you are bugging him and he’s listening to a little girl’s prayer. I learn’t a while back that the heaven’s communication is something like, hundreds of channels depending on whichever channel your  religion transmits in, we got the Christian channel, Islam channel, Gothic channels, atheists channel, and a whole lot of channels, and everyone is trying to get through to request something. It’s noisy up there, and the guy is sometimes rattled and just shuts down all the channels, all of them except for the children’s channel. Prayers by small children are honest, sweet, requests with so much belief it makes anyone smile, whichever religion the child professes, her prayers are simple, a good friend to play with, a good meal, some simple toys, something that they need. Not what all the other channels demand, higher salaries, some drunk is praying for some answers in the classroom, a gambler demanding for more money to gamble, demanding things that they don’t need, they don’t even keep their appointments in months, or at least send a thank you note to yours truly.  When it gets too noisy, Big Guy switches off all the other channels, and listens to the children’s channel, it soothes him. Anyway, I was bugging him at that particular moment, after bugging for close to 4 minutes, he eventually shooed me, and pointed to the notice board, apparently that’s what all the

created with God's hands

channels were screaming “what the heaven was happening?”. Anyway, a lot of people had packed ready for the ride but he had tried to tell us nothing was happening. He gave you a week’s weather forecast, including two days after the 22nd date of May 2011, he had that on the notice board too, people haven’t been listening to him (or reading the notice board), you guys packed and these guys misquoted when translating God’s language after a little too much wine. Story short, I realized that I was mad at the wrong person, that douche bag should be punched in the face. I was packed for heaven because I believe that if Jesus could turn water into wine, the least that God could do is turn water into vodka, ya dig!! Anyway, guys got it wrong, the day passed, and the channels are still wrecking havoc.   

What were we talking about again? Am at Jay Jays’ place, with her small
brother Feddy and Coconut. Her kids Ray and Roy are around too, and Joyce’s kid Jeff too. We all love her [place coz she loves to baby everyone, she cooks nice, watches us when we are almost totally fucked and knows when you need to hit the bed. She reminds me of my big sister, Euna, don’t do this, sit over there, don’t do that, you smoke too much of this Coconut shit, don’t pour another drink, go home and sleep. It sounds like she kills the fun but that is not even remotely true. Her house has a party mood at all times, the cool party kind where we chill, everyone sitting on the floor pouring our vodka, chewing our *khat *and smoking our stuff. She knows when to let you party and when to let you sleep even if you don’t know your own limits, she knows. And she knows better than to let you drink with an empty stomach.

I know this has been a long ride and I do apologize for not completing any of my stories. However, I do hope that you had as an awesome ride as I did. Remind me, we need to talk about Sunsets, I promised to write someone something about a sunset.

Tuesday, 07 June 2011

Tuesday, 07 June 2011, I almost had a bike accident for the first time. Saidi was on the driving seat, updating me on the current affairs of the small Mokowe town. I like Saidi, very nice fella with his bakora which he insists it’s a weapon against a lot of things but if you ask me, it’s more of a fashion accessory than a weapon, unless in the hands of a ninja (these guys give me the creeps since Jnr told me they were coming to get me. I was lucky though because they were paid in vodka and spliffs, and the payment was made before the work was done. We ended up discussing the ills of our respective girlfriends rather than why they came to see me). Anyway, the reason I like Saidi is because, being a long time customer of his boda boda since the office car broke down, he sometimes gives me free rides, and when am a little short on money, he ferries me on credit. He has this witty saying, “tutanyongana baadaye” which means he will inflate my bill a little and I will most probably pay for the sake of tomorrow’s lack of options.

On this Tuesday morning, Saidi picks me up at the jetty and as usual, I learn that there has being a few robberies in a place called Hindi, roughly 15 kilometers from Mokowe town. These thugs are brutal, they ask you to take them somewhere and in transit, a call of nature comes through, he has to go now. He goes in some bushes and comes out with a machete. The good thing is they at least give you a choice, “unataka kubaki na kichwa, ama na motorbike?” I didn’t say it was a fair choice but at least it’s a choice, not like those Nairobi thugs who will rob you, rape your wife and daughter, and might even kill you.

In the midst of this news update, we find our necks simultaneously turning right without effort, and before we know it the bike is heading towards the bushes!! Something I should have mentioned, it was happening on a bend which we had already taken and the head probably didn’t get the memo. Saidi is pretty good with his bike and his reflexes are not too bad, he was therefore able to navigate the bike back on the road but we had to stop to stare at this beauty that almost threw us off balance and hurt somewhere on my left side again, yes most of the injuries I’ve had throughout my few years on these lands have affected my left side. My dad used to say I was accident prone, I still am, but he never really specified that my left side needs a bodyguard. Now, this broad, the cause of our near accident experience, was about 5’6, chocolate, white blinding teeth (she smiled, or rather laughed at us) and yes beautiful hair. She was new around here and for once, Saidi didn’t have a story about her, and if Saidi don’t know, nobody does.

Am not in the business of picking women on the streets, not that it’s never crossed my mind, but the phobia of rejection is up there with my living alone phobia. How I handled the latter is actually very effective, the former is still a work in progress. Living alone phobia wasn’t too hard to fight. When I moved to Lamu, it was the first time in my life that I had ever lived alone. I used to crash with my cousin Marto when I left home to venture the world without the family wings. It was scary at first, especially because when my cousin and I moved out, we looked for a very strategic place. Since we both worked in the CBD, we ensured that the place was a walking distance to work. Secondly, we knew our habits ensured our pockets were overly depleted after the 20th of any month and we had to be fed, we therefore had to be close to at least one family member, and Uncle Matindi was a safe choice. We settled at a place where we could live a stress free life after the rent, and we were close to most of our friends. Moving to Lamu stole that from me and although the experience has being beautiful, I can’t afford to be comfortable especially now that the boat fare has increased by a cool 50%, the fuel crisis has finally hit us.

It has being two and a half years now since I first moved here, and my formula has worked extremely well. It is simple really, make sure you are not fully sober, and for the sake of conversation, leave the T.V. on when you go to sleep. The noises in the background makes you feel like you are in a full house, although sometimes it can really scare the shit out of you during the night. It happens when you leave a series in the lines of Supernatural to play at night, and at around three in the morning, you wake up to the fight between the Angels and demons.

The phobia of rejection is a little different. The time of day is very important and mornings are an extremely terrible timing, it will totally mess up your day. Between noon and evening, not much can go wrong since most of the day has being pre-arranged but evenings are the best since there are very few hours left before the days end. It’s like almost end months where everyone knows only a couple of days to payday, and you can comfortably ask for a loan knowing that you can afford to pay back in a couple of days but if someone says no, you won’t be too mad. With evenings, especially Friday evenings, the probability of being rejected is extremely minimal, especially with the help of a little liquor; choose your poison, vodka works for me.
Tuesday morning, beautiful woman, flashing smile, 0800 hrs. Think Sergent, Think…………………….
Not working right, the math is all wrong and you’re almost late for work. Run nigga run (or rather Saidi ride)!!

Saidi promised to get the lowdown on the new girl next door by the end of the week. For now, I am patiently waiting for Friday evening, or night, preferably after midnight after a couple of shots.

Thirteen years later

When I was in primary school, we had the most creative deputy head master especially when it came to instilling pain. She used to make science class sound like Guantanamo bay, because even without lifting her hand, she could instill pain to a ten year old. Even her stare was as scary as hell. Mrs. Maua, (we called her that all our school life to a point where no one really remembers her real name. I sure hope we never meet on the street and I have to introduce her to someone.), made my life terrible. When I was in standard six, she frog-jumped my ass from 6X to 6N, a cool four blocks for not being in my class. My very convincing reason that I was picking up my book from Big Cock aka Njamba Nene, (he was named after a character in a storybook we read in class. He was a pretty small fellow but he embraced the name and lived up to it), fell in deaf years.

Mrs. Maua was spying on me, she had to have watched me for a couple of days to notice that I visited 6X a lot and she got curious. I don’t want to point fingers because there was no real proof that anybody snitched (I know it was that kid who wanted to take mine) but there was no other way she could have found out about my 6X business. In addition to the fact that nothing really happened in that class, except an exchange of glances and giggles, sometimes a very long stare, approximately two and a half seconds and although everyone in 6X knew something was going on, there was really nothing to report. Somehow, she found out something was happening but since she never caught us do anything or even sitting on the same desk, she had to be creative. As I always did everyday during evening preps, I went to 6X to “pick up a book” from Big Cock but Mrs. Maua had other plans. She let a few minutes pass before she followed me; I bet she expected to find me with her, but as I said, I had gone to “pick a book” from Big Cock. She wasn’t very impressed with the turn of events but she had walked all the way from the staffroom ready to punish someone and she was not going back without punishing someone. It was frog jumping for me, and a few canes when I got back to my class.

Angela was a very bright girl, beautiful too with a pair of beautiful pink sandals that made my heart go boom boom and a killer smile. Competition for number one spot since day one was between Charles and me, but third position was hers by default. I liked her a lot, and as young as I was, I knew I had to stand out to win her heart, but as an 11 year old, I wasn’t good with impressing girls, shy too. I did a few dangerous stunts for her benefit (I got scars to prove it too), acted all smart when we had joint classes, and pretty much did anything to attract her attention.  She was rarely caned, but there was this one time she was late for school when we were in class seven (probably the only time) and she had to join the club. We were long term members so for us it wasn’t a big thing for us and we took our daily dose of the cane and went on with our business as usual. When her turn came, tears were lingering even before the cane touched her soft hands. She missed a couple of times before the teacher on duty Mr. Kariuki (he was a sadist I tell you, racing kids to get to the gate before them just so he can cane them, just sad), decided enough was enough and he needed to hold her wrist if he was ever going to get finished with her. Seeing her cry was heartbreaking, it made me really sad and the worst part was there was nothing I could do especially because we were in different streams. I had snuck some mint-choc and fudge from our shop in the morning, like I always did but I couldn’t just walk over to her and hand her the chocolate. I waited until the 10:00 o’clock break and slid them into her locker. She never knew where the chocolates came from, or if she knew, she never told me but seeing her licking the fudge gave me a satisfaction like no other.

Back to class six for a minute, Charles and I always competed for top spot with Angela coming in at a definite third. Due to matters of the heart, I decided to give her the taste of a number above the norm, failed myself just enough to give her a taste of being in the top two. I ended up being ranked 6th that term and my troubles began. All the teachers wanted a piece of me with Mrs. Maua taking the lead. First order of business was banning me from ever laying foot in that class. Secondly, as my science teacher, she decided my cane count should be equivalent to the difference between my score in the previous term and that of the current one which totalled a whooping 23 canes. This was the third worst caning i ever received from Mrs. Maua, the worst being untying that kid, Muchiri, who had skived school and his mum said he should be tied outside the staffroom for a day to teach him a lesson, some parents, closely followed by a beating I received for skiving school to go play football with my cousin and his friends. Anyway, the worst part was even after I failed myself, she still came third as Samuel decided he too wanted to view the world from a few steps above, and Charles without breaking a sweat took the lead.

Being a boy is very difficult especially an 11 year old with a crush. I would literally do anything for Angela but there was no way I could tell her I liked her, she was too intimidating. I would help her carry water on Fridays, (that was when we did the general cleaning), carry her bag sometimes and it was pretty huge, I’d probably have carried her home if she ever asked me too. We sometimes got to talk and regardless of the topic, I wanted to keep talking until right before our K.C.S.E. when she asked me the weirdest question. If it was true I wanted to do it with her and then leave. Apparently this other kid who liked her too told her I said that (same guy that snitched on me, 6X escapades that is). It wasn’t true and although the doing it part had crossed my mind, at that age I probably just wanted to be seen with her and maybe introduce her as my girlfriend.

That was 13 years ago. Charles, Angela, Big Cock and Samuel went to fight different battles in High School and I went to fight mine too. I don’t know what happened to Samuel but Charles and Angela graduated and are now doing very well. Me, I lived for a whole 13 years and ended up here, writing this story.

This piece was written because a few people asked for Angelas' story and Biko is expecting me to send him at least 350 words that make some sense. Susan, Shiku and Alice, this is Angelas' story. Biko, I hope I didn't disappoint you, you too who is reading this piece.
 
On a totally different note, I noticed that I got a fan from Iceland. Thanks for chilling here, stay cool.

Retracing

They say you should live before you die, it’s not like we didn’t know that but there is something about wisdom from those who came before us that makes even dumb people sound really wise. Take Confucius for example,”Man who buy drowned cat must pay for wet pussy” or “Man who kisses girls behind gets crack in face”. Don’t get it twisted, am not saying he was dumb or these wise sayings are not applicable in life, mostly on a literal level but if Confucius was still alive, maybe they wouldn’t be considered to be as wise, just saying.

Enough about that, I was thinking about old times today. How did we or rather how did I get here? How did I stumble upon some of the things that I know today and the principles that I live or not live by? When I was around 9 years old, I had this desk mate, Winnie. We used to have “preps” between 0345 hrs to 0430 hours and although the discussion or study groups were more or less formed by the teacher, one always ended up with the click that he normally rolled with except for the gender sensitivity thing. If it was up to us, there would be no girls in our group, which wouldn't be a good thing because I might never have had a chance to talk to Winnie. Winnie was as curious as I was, so when we decided to play show me yours I’ll show you mine, she was more than willing to play. These were strange lands we were venturing and even though we were eager to discover more, we couldn’t trend too fast. We started with undies, I think hers were pink and flowery or dotted, which meant it was my turn to flash mine. After a couple of weeks showing off our under wears, it was time for the big sneak preview. You have to understand this was a big moment for me in my life because what I was about to see was going to change my life forever, and the magnitude of this occurrence was so significant that a date had to be set for us, especially me, to be mentally prepared. Two weeks later and the big day came, and to this day, I’ll never thank this girl enough for opening my eyes and showing me what I live for. 

Two years later, it was time for me to discover something even greater. At 11, the only thing we knew about kissing was what we saw on The Rich Also Cry, The Bold and The Beautiful and Wild Rose. I remember we were not supposed to watch any of the above programs but since Wild Rose wasn’t too sexual, we were sometimes allowed to watch. Eleven and green, and one hell of a crash with this hottie, I think her name was Judy. One Friday after school we were walking home, can’t really remember how that happened because on normal after school hours, I would be somewhere playing football, rounders or riding tires (yes kids, we didn’t have GTA or NFS so we raced with tires) but somehow I was walking home with Judy. Am not sure if it was my sweet nothings which am sure at that age were very limited to talks on WWE Wrestling, Walker Texas Ranger or if your parents allowed you to watch Tropical heat that weekend. You could throw in a few of the stunts that you did during the week specifically meant to impress her which meant going home with a few injuries, but they were totally worth it since she was watching. Anyway, we are walking home or rather am walking her home and as if the big guy up there had being listening to my ramblings, her mum had stepped out for a while. We had watched enough T.V. to know what people do when they really liked each other, we decided, what the hell let’s try it. I gotta tell you, of all the experiences, including how to tell my dad I’ve being kicked out of school, explaining to my mum why all her chicks are dead (me and my cousin Sophie decided they were very dirty and needed a bath) among others, this was the scariest moment yet. It was quick, very quick indeed but that was the best feeling I’d had in all my 11 years of my existence. We dated for a while until they moved. Didn’t hear from her until she sent me that success card when I was sitting for my K.C.S.E examinations and stupid me had to lose that card.

At this point in life, I thought the world couldn’t get any better. I hadn’t discovered any drugs except for the few cigarettes my cousin Ken used to steal from his paps, I was still an alcohol virgin but it wasn’t going to last very long. August 1996 was a very special month because that was the month I promised myself and everyone in the family that I will never touch anything alcoholic. It was a family tradition to go to grandmas for at least a week during the holidays and this was not any different. My cousin Chomba was one of the village bad boys aka Makmende. He was a very good storyteller, convincing too. He had already convinced the other kids that I was packed (guns), still don’t understand how those guys bought that story but it meant I had a free pass wherever and an open invitation to all the games, not that am complaining. Anyway, Chomba had some crazy ideas which always sounded good and foolproof until the whipping when we got home. So he decides we should try some liquor named Kibuku.  We however couldn’t afford to purchase and even if we could, we couldn’t just go over to a bar counter and order a bottle, the bartender would probably close shop and run to my grandmas to snitch on us considering that she was well known, still is, which meant other alternatives.

OPERATION KIBUKU

          i.            Dig a trench outside Jimmies’ gate. This was considered the best place since there was a shallow trench already and it was more like expansion of the trench. Plus Jimmies, folks were rarely home which meant no parental scary shit.

         ii.            When the distributing lorry comes from the shopping centre (ndukaini), it will definitely slow down at the dugout where Chomba will leap (kurukia lori), and get a few bottles.

       iii.            He will then drop the Kibuku bottles which we will collect behind him and then he'll alight at that steep slope about a KM from the trench.

       iv.            We will then go to the shamba and have a mini party.

Operation Kibuku wasn’t a total failure except in our planning, we hadn’t considered that none of us had ever tasted anything alcoholic which meant none of us knew how it tasted or how to handle it. The details of Operation Kibuku are a little hazy after step iv, but I clearly remember the following day when I along with Ken, Chomba, Senior, and Dan swore in front of the whole family, extended family, to never ever even think of thinking about that evil drink (the whip has being great catalyst in most of the promises I made when I was young). Until 4 years later, I did stay true to my word, but hey, High School happened.

At 11, I was sure nothing would top what I had experienced so far, until the teachers strike of 1997. Now you got to understand, there was neither parental nor teachers guidance for approximately three weeks, and curiosity was riding real fast. Hide and seek was a good game until accidentally Kanyambura(we called her that coz she was kinda small)  decided to share my hiding spot. Kamande was doing the seeking and the rest of us were doing the hiding. Am not really sure how this happened as the rate of occurrence of events was at a rate that my young mind was not equipped to handle, but I do remember Kamande shouting “mmeshinda kikombe” which apparently wasn’t enough to make us show ourselves. Kamande and Peter decided it was getting late and they wanted to go home, but they didn’t want to go home without me. They looked for me for quite a while (their story), and when they eventually found me, instead of giving me a high five, they started laughing pointing at us. I still dispute this to this very day but apparently, they laughed at me until I cried. Can’t really remember how it felt but at least I do remember who it was.

I kept my new found good times an ill at a time, picked smoking along the way and a lot of drinks, cigarettes, miraa, and a few women later, I finally met Mary Jane. It was after New Year’s bash in Softie, Deno’s place and the hangover was killing us. Being the creative minds that we are, we decided that since most of the alcohol is usually absorbed by the fruit, there was enough alcohol from last night’s punch. Marto, or was it Bena? A lil fuzzy but one of them bought one liter of Fanta orange and pours it in the punch bowl, a cup each and let’s welcome the New Year (can’t really remember which year it was). It wasn’t enough so my cousin lights a joint. I can tell you one thing for sure, everything was funnier, and the world wasn’t as scary as they had made us believe. Me and Mary Jane never looked back and we’ve had a very fulfilling relationship.

It’s being years since my experience with Winnie. As of today, I don’t know where she went, Judy too, we lost Kamande along the way to meningitis, I heard Kanyambura got a kid, the rest are scattered all over this country but I don’t think they have any idea  what they created. Am not a bad creation so if they ever found out, they wouldn't be too disappointed, maybe a little since I didn't become a pilot and didn't get married to my first love, Angela (everyone except one guy -the competition- knew she was the one for me. I think even the teachers knew she was the one for me, but that's a story for another day.)

 

Goodnight ya’ll and have a blissful night. Need to furnish my ills.

Thoughts foreign

I've being thinking, hehehehe................. got ya!! Am not the kind that thinks a lot, which doesn't mean my brain is underutilized but more like.........see thinking not my thing really, and I'll tell you why, it get's in the way of living free. Take an example, you are invited for a party in the middle of the week and you know it's going to rock, then you think (key word here is think), I have to go to work tomorrow!! In a second, you've turned that smile upside down and this could have being avoided if you just put one foot in front of the other boarded that boat went to that beach party, got so fucked up and let future you deal with the consequences. He'll probably be too hangover-ed to regret or care that the boss is pissed at him as the volume of the world has being turned down. He will just walk around, his presence only physical and his mind in Uranus.

Anyway, am trying to figure out what to say today because the things going through my head have yet to be figured out by yours truly, which means foreign things being in my head. Foreign things you ask? Foreign because am not an engineer or a contractor (builder) but I have blueprints of a nice city in my head. Am thinking of a mini-Vegas somewhere in our semi arid areas. 5-Star hotels and casinos, boxing and wrestling arenas, racing tracks for horses, dogs, bikes, cars among other reasons to increase your and my gambling debts. With such businesses in place, everything else will naturally fall in place. That's one thought.

Among other thoughts is, hold up, have you ever thought, if you had a power, which one would you rather have? At first I struggled a lot with this question, mostly between flying, teleporting and reading minds. With flying, I can literally go anywhere without worrying about traffic, physical barriers, which can also be done by teleporting but with flying, there is freedom.
People have always associated flying with freedom with all our superheros having this particular power, except for hulk I think, plus I think it would be really cool. I can imagine Richard Branson telling off a guy (that would be me) because one of his jet is about take off and am like, ''you still use that? What year am I in again?''

With teleporting, it's more of a need than a want. It's 0300 hours and your alcometer is at full tank. Your calculations tell you that between where you are and where you need to be will involve riding a boat which is not immediately available, after which you'll need to walk approximately 5 minutes to your house. On a bad night, the main gate maybe locked from the inside which means calling your neighbor to open it for you since you're too hi' to use the trick only you know (stretching to get to the latch from the space above the door). By the time you reach your door you realize that the security light is busted, and now you have to feel every key, test it in the dark since at your state you are not in a position to hold your keys, phone (for lighting purposes), the padlock and the milk (yes, I do buy milk). You get to the house and the alcometer is now at about 2/3 of the tank which means you're battling the urge to go back to the nearest pub to refill again. If for instance you could teleport, just imagine how convenient it would be, attending all parties I'd be invited to regardless of where they maybe, never being late for appointments or work, even teleporting to take a shit. On the flip side, it means getting zero exercise (considering you'll probably teleport everywhere including the loo), and drunk dials might translate to drunk teleports. On the bright side, I would probably have scratched off most of the things on my to do list before I die i.e.

1.  Go to Amsterdam.
2. Visit at least one country in South America.
3. Slap a cop and snatch his cap
4. Sex with an A-list actress.
5. Drink with Jack Sparrow.
6. Attend a rock concert, preferably Nickelback or Coldplay, but I'd settle for Breaking Benjamin if for some insane reason I find myself running out of time.
7. Yet to be put down but a committee has being formed to discuss the possibilities.

Reading minds is trickier, which means I would need a lot of self control, anger management and high tolerance for idiocy. It would be weird to walk somewhere order coffee and watch people. That college kid on a coffee date praying that the girl he's trying to impress doesn't order anything above Sh. 500 as it's above his limits while the girl is just thinking why he's trying so hard to impress her coz she already likes him.
Note: If we were more frank to each other, relationships might last longer.
Where were we, reading minds. The upside is no one will ever be able to lie to me, and it will be much easier to give people what they want. I would have genuine friends, women who love me for me, and those who need a quick fix and never call you back. However, even your closest friends have bad days, secrets, and sometimes a low opinion of you. You might be forced to re-evaluate your friendships a lil too many times, and family might be a lil too pretentious for your comfort level.

Walking through walls would be cool too, so would throwing fireballs or speed. So thinking, I think it's bad for me as the head needs fewer things to worry about.

Enough of my ramblings, how about your thoughts.